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My dining room is filled with six girls. Six girls painting aprons and decorating cupcakes. The laughter, the squealing….it’s music to my ears. I love that my girl has this tight-knit group of friends. They sit together at lunch, have each others backs in the halls, and would defend each other to the last inch of the last mile. They are the reason they each survived the first nine weeks of middle school. I made dinner and handed them the supplies but have tried to stay out of the way. I’m just in the kitchen so I can deliver napkins and drink refills as needed but far enough away that they feel safe to talk. I’ve heard who all the latest crushed are, who’s bossy in PE (which frankly made me snort because none of these girls are push overs), and which teachers are the coolest. One of the girls asked Shelby, “Why are we the only ones here?” and Shelby replied, “Because you are my people.”

It’s important to have people.

Some of my fondest memories from middle school are from parties just like this. Friday nights wrapped around birthdays or holidays or no special reason, and one of our moms would open the door to the lot of us. We ate pizza and Doritos and Dr.Pepper until we had terrible stomach aches. We laughed and talked and made fun of each other and other people and farted. We farted a lot back in the day. I haven’t heard any farting tonight. Thank God.

I worried so many hours away this summer, in fear of what middle school would hold. Would the friendships change? Would there be anyone to stand beside her? Would she have a friend?

I feel so silly now. I usually feel silly after wasted worry; and 99% of worry is wasted. She has people. She has good people. She has girls who love her and laugh with her and want to be with her.

It’s important to have people.

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Today’s post is Day 30 of the Write 31 Days Challenge that I am participating in along with many of my Clumsy Blogger friends.

When did it happen? When did she become so…so…teenagery? Twelve years ago today I went to see my doctor. I was tired and fat and swollen and my pelvis bones felt as if they might simply give out and fracture into tiny pieces at any moment. I was still 4 1/2 weeks from my due date and the doctor joked about how my Thanksgiving dinner would probably be the last meal I would eat in piece that year. I was tempted to grab his jacket and throw him to the floor.

Charlie was out of town but would be back that evening; a business trip he took only after the doctor assured him there would be no baby girl soon. On the 29th of October, all signs pointed to a Thanksgiving baby.

But the morning of the 30th was a different day. There were different signs. Charlie had flown in late the night before but was up early to head downtown to work. He tried not to wake me but when you are a thousand pounds pregnant sleep is not a place your venture into deeply. While he showered I made what I assumed would be my first of a million trips to the bathroom for the day.

“Crap!”

I whispered to myself in total disgust and frustration because what I had feared had finally come true…I had just peed all over myself. Or so I thought. I waddled to the bathroom, lamenting to Charlie what was happening, saying, “And it won’t stop. I’m still peeing. This is terrible!”

It only took me about 2 minutes of standing there, pitying myself, thinking I had lost complete and total control of my bladder before I realized my water broke.

“My water broke. MY WATER BROKE! MY WATERRRRRR BROKE!!!!!”

I called the doctor, who laughed, and said he’d meet us at the hospital. She burst into this world over a month early yet weighing over 6 1/2 pounds. She was long and lean and oh, could she scream. She hated the bilirubin lights we had to keep her under for days. She fought and she fussed and she screamed. We were surprised at all the screaming.

She’s been surprising us ever since so you’d think I would be used to the surprising.

And yet no.

This morning as I sat at the stop sign, waiting for cars to speed by, I turned and caught a glimpse of this amazing creation. This miracle we were sure would never happen. She was completely unaware that I was staring in awe and had no idea I snapped a picture. I wanted to capture the moment. I want to capture all the moments. I want a great big jar to hold the beauty, like a lightening bug on a summer night, so I can sit and watch it shine.

But just as my mom always made me turn lightening bugs loose to live another night, I know I am turning Shelby loose as well. Not all at once, like my sparkly summer bug friends, but day by day, moment by moment. She is growing into the beauty that God created her to be; a lovely young woman who not only reflects but shines the light of Jesus. She shines. I want to watch her shine. I look forward to seeing he soar and fly. I will treasure in my heart the baby she was, the promise from God, and the woman he is molding her to be.

On today. the  day before her 12th birthday, I am surprised, again, at the blessing God continues to blanket over her…and me. This teenagery girl. This girl who makes her daddy’s heart melt and her momma scream. This girl who never ceases to surprise us. And me, the woman who is blessed to be her mom.

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Today is the 29th day in the Write 31 Days Challenge. My Clumsy Blogger friends and I have been churning out posts for 29 days. You can find a list of mine here.

I don’t always do gratitude well. I want to be grateful. I want graciousness to be a word people think of when they think of me. It just doesn’t always flow so freely.

We had huge rains in Houston this weekend. Hurricane Patricia rolled through this weekend and brought inches upon inches of rain. And my roof leaked. It made me so angry until I remembered that I still have a roof. After watching the news and seeing the people of Mexico, where Patricia landed, my breath caught in that place in my throat where my breath catches when I realize I’m a fool..

I had a sucky day today. Not Third World sucky. Just Suburban Mom sucky. Driving home tonight I watched the most gorgeous moon rising over the city. My breath caught again.

What a fool I am to think I have anything to complain over.

The past few months have been hard. But we have a house and we have food. We have jobs and we have clothes. Education for our children, cars to drive, and money to buy gasoline…we have it all.

We have friends and family and neighbors. We have church.

There goes that catching breath again.

Thank you, God, for moons that rise. Thank you for morning fog. Thank you for a leaky roof and long waits at doctor offices. Thank you for the good and the bad and the in between because those moments mean I’m alive.

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Today’s post is part of the Write 31 Days Challenge. The photo is courtesy of science.howstuffworks.com

I realize that the above title sounds awfully specific but I’m running behind and there’s no time for generalities. This is what I have to offer today. It’s a message for the hurried mom. The one who works full time but still feels obligated to volunteer occasionally. This is for the lady who sets great boundaries most of the time but every once in a while, in a moment of weakness, says she’ll bring 2 dozen brownies to the reception after the orchestra concert. It’s for the gal who loves to bake and prides herself on cooking healthy, delicious treats for her friends and loved ones but can admit when she’s taken on too much.

Here’s how it’s done in simple and concise steps:

1. Leave work twenty minutes early and drive to the nearest grocery store.
2. Buy 2 dozen brownies and 1 decorative, throw away pan.
3. Drive home.
4. Remove brownies from plastic container with sticker labels and place in decorative throw away pan. (Presentation, people. We are hurried. We are not animals.)
5. Drive to school and set brownies on reception table and smile at other moms.
6. Give yourself a lot of grace because your brownies don’t look anything like the ones in the above picture but you’re winning at parenting in other areas and brownies don’t matter.

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Today’s post is Day 27 in the Write 31 Days Challenge. Instructions for this post can easily be substituted for Cub Scout Meetings, Tap Dance Receptions, Swim Banquets, etc.

Staring at the blinking cursor this morning causes my eyes to flinch. It is Day 26 of the Write 31 Days Challenge and I am so very weary. I am raw from sharing my soul day after day. My muscles ache from the days I held back; the days I posted fluff, in spite of my promise for utter realness for all 31 days. My brain hurts from attempting to match words with meaning, time and time again, wondering if it will matter to anyone. Does it matter to me?

I cried on my way home from the driving kids to school today. Not because of the writing challenge but also because of the writing challenge. The HillsongUnited hit “Oceans” was playing…again. You can’t throw a stone at a Christian radio station these days without hitting “Oceans” at least twice. It’s a beautiful song and the words are incredibly powerful. The words are a prayer. A bold prayer. So bold in fact, I heard a preacher joke earlier this year that maybe we shouldn’t be singing the song if we aren’t willing to take a swim.

Spirit Lead Me.

The life of Team Lexow has been one of trust and faith this year. It has been one of doubt and worry. We have waffled and wavered between those places daily. Hourly. God has taken us far deeper than our feet could’ve wandered. As we ventured in it was excitingly terrifying. We were scared but intrigued as to where God would lead.

Spirit Lead Me.

Writing has always been an outlet for me. When I can’t blog I journal. When I can’t journal I doodle. This challenge has been a growth experience for me, pushing me completely out of my comfort zone. It has forced me to ask myself if my words matter to me even if they matter to no one else. It has begged me to ask if I’m writing because it is something I believe God has called me to hone in on, to craft and to improve upon, or if it is to receive attention or accolades or praise. When none of those things came; when no one noticed, I had to look at my heart and say, “I will write because it hurts my soul more to not write.”

Spirit Lead Me.

This morning I feel like my family is in the darkest part of the ocean. We are floating on a life boat and clinging to the hope that our eyes will not drop below the waves. We are trusting that God will soon send an ocean liner as rescue. He has never failed. Never. So we continue to call upon his  name. I wasn’t sure why God brought this call to my heart on writing fell during one of the most trying times of learning to adult in other areas. Except that now I see. It all feels like too much but God is a God of too much. He makes much out of little and little out of much. It’s who he is.

So I will continue to write about the raft. I will write about the sharks that swim by, longing for a bite of our toes.  I will report on the whales, the ones that sing sweet songs of watchful protection. And when our rescue comes I will shout (IN CAPS LOCK) of his goodness.

Spirit Lead Me.

Do our choices matter?

I read Andy Stanley’s book “Principle of the Path” years ago and, to be honest, found it to be life changing. He talks about the tension between where we want to end up in life and the path we choose to get there. This message seems so simple yet it’s one that so many of us wrestle every day. We often have the best of intentions. We know where we want to be and yet we make choices that say otherwise. We see all the tracks laid out before us and wonder if it’s possible that several of them will lead to the same end location. Sometimes there are even signs; sometimes there are people who have taken a specific track and we think that it will lead us somewhere else. Surely it will be different for us.

It’s madness.

Making choices this way can start off seemingly harmless. For instance, we all know that over-eating is not good for our bodies. We know that it makes us miserable. It causes physical pain and can make us sick. Yet every Thanksgiving, thousands of people chose to over-indulge. The turkey, the potatoes, the stuffing and pie…they all taste so good and it’s a special day and….

Making this poor choice to eat too much food causes only temporary discomfort if it happens once a year. But what about when we make the choice more often? When “treating” ourselves becomes a weekly thing? A daily thing? Well, then the consequences get deeper. Weight gain, diabetes, intestinal damage, budget constraints, medication…just to name a few.

Choices come in almost every minute of every day. Do I choose to sleep an extra ten minutes? Do I choose yogurt over a donut for breakfast? Do I take the road with the stop light or weave through the neighborhood with stop signs? Do I say “hello” to the lady in the hall who snubbed me on Sunday? Do I pay this bill today or wait until tomorrow? Do I invest here or there?

Choices are inevitable. So are consequences. When we look at the tracks ahead and make a clear and conscious decision to walk all the way down one, are we ready to find out what’s on the other end? And will there be anyone but myself to blame if I don’t like the final destination?

I’ve regretted a lot of choices in my past. I’ve reached many a track end and realized I had chosen poorly. I’ve pointed fingers and thrown fits and screamed and cried. The hard truth, however, is that most of the time I chose that track with my eyes wide open. Of course life throws circumstances your way. It’s thrown me a few curve balls over the years. There have been side paths and side walks and little curvy trails that were additions to the map after I started. But I still have a choice in how I handle each one.

Every single morning I have a choice to wake up, praise my Heavenly Father, and walk in His Spirit of light and love. I can choose all of that. Or I can choose the opposite. I can choose to wallow in self, blame others, complain about the rockiness of the path. I can choose to ignore truth, speak out of hurt places, and focus on wrongs.

My day always goes better when I choose the the Light and yet I wake up frequently and choose the opposite.

I have never regretted a choice made in Light and Truth.

I have only and always regretted choices made from other places.

I am learning to offer grace for the poor choices of my past and move forward in Light.

And that has made all the difference.

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Today’s post falls on the 25th day of the Write 31 Days Challenge. You can find a list of other posts here.

Want to learn more about “The Purpose of the Path” by Andy Stanley? You can order it from Amazon or many other book retailers. I make zero dollars from the book sales or from recommending it. I just love it.

(photo courtesy of dogtime.com)

I do a little dog sitting from time to time. It’s not my main gig and every other month I swear I’m never going to do it again. The reality though is that I love dogs and I have fallen in love with a handful of the ones that visit me regularly. I’ve been doing it for sixteen years and I’ve seen some dogs come and go. I’ve taken care of these loves until the end of their lives and then taken care of their family replacement dog. I guess you could say I’ve seen more than several families through multi-generations of dogs.

I have a few dogs that come and, according to their owners, they cry with joy when they turn on my street. They know where they are; they know it’s time for vacation. These dogs burst through the door and race to the back door because they are ready to run and play. There is one labrador that comes who can not wait to swim a few laps. I treat them like family while they are here. They are loved and spoiled. They follow me around, all but ignoring Charlie, because I’m the momma. I’m the one who feeds them and lets them in and out. I’m the one who administers their meds and treats and ear rubs. They trust me.

Every now and then, however, I get a nervous dog. I get one who doesn’t understand why he’s been left in a house with strangers. He doesn’t like the pool or the grass or the strange smells. I have to be careful with nervous dogs. Nervous dogs will bite you in a heartbeat. Even if they’ve never considered biting someone before. Even if they are the world’s sweetest dog at their own house. Nervous dogs are capable of biting your face off.

I have a nervous dog here right now. He’s a great big brown bundle of love. He’s just about the sweetest thing ever. When I open the dishwasher he stands beside me. When I go in the pantry he follows me. He lays on my feet while I’m cooking. When I go to the restroom he lays outside the door and whimpers. He’s so sweet. But he doesn’t want me out of sight. He’s decided I’m safe but that’s it. Just me. Not my family, not my house, and certainly not my back yard. When I let him out to potty he races out and back as fast as he can. And then he barks. He barks loud and fast and nervously. His eyes are wild and the hair on his back stands on end. He does not and will not calm down until he is by my side. If you came up behind him when he was waiting for me to open the door I have no doubt he would snap.

But I love him.

Maybe I love this dog so much because I can totally empathize with him. I have been lost before. I have been confused. I have wondered if I would be okay and it life would ever feel safe again. And when I feel that way I only want my people. I want the people who love me most to sit down and have a meal with me. I want my people to hug me and say it’s all going to be okay; it’s gonna work out.

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own. -Matthew 6:34

I know it’s a thing. I know it’s real. It’s a command. Do. Not. Worry. But sometimes I worry. Just like this big dog (who is crushing my feet as I sit at my desk and type) I sometimes wonder if I’m going to have all I need to be safe and secure. I worry about whether my people will always be here for me when I need them.

A friend recently told me that worry is when we imagine a future without God. It’s when we think about what’s to come and don’t add God into the equation. We forget his sovereignty. When I first heard this I thought, “No. That’s not how my worry works.”

But actually that’s exactly how my worry works.

When I worry I am totally drained of hope because I’m thinking of all the ways the world will fail me. I forget that I am not of this world. I forget that I am a Child of the King and that His blood runs through my veins. I forget that I am a vessel for the Holy Spirit and that I can do I things through Him who gives me strength. I pace and I pant and I forget.

Worry makes me forget. And forgetting makes me worry. It’s a very vicious cycle.

I am thankful, in these moments, for friends who will meet me for coffee and talk all the worries over. I am thankful for friends who call and let me know they’re praying. I am thankful for a Father who says, “Be still, Child. I am here and I’ve never left your side.”

It’s the remembering that helps rid the worry. It’s when I think about the faithfulness that God has shown in the past that I realize  he’s always going to be faithful. It’s friends saying, “Remember that time we prayed for…”

Remembering trumps worry every time.

The big nervous dog will remember in time. After he’s visited a few times he will remember that I never leave him outside too long; that I never make him sit in the rain. He will remember that I give the best treats and that I never skip feedings. One day he will jump out of his owner’s truck and race up my front walk just to lick my face. That’s how you know when you’ve broken the trust barrier with a dog…when they happily lick your face. One day he will stop forgetting.

I hope to one day stop forgetting, too.

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This post is Day 23 in the Write 31 Days Challenge I am participating in with  lots of fearless writers from around the country. Maybe the world. Maybe the universe.

In keeping with my theme of faith, family, and food I thought today would be a great today to share some food with you. I hear tell that the weather is cool in parts of the country that aren’t Houston and that means it’s chili weather! One of my all time favorite chili recipes comes from Wildtree and I would love to share it with you today.

Here’s what you’ll need to prep:

• 1 pound of boneless, skinless chicken breast or thighs
• 1 (15 oz) can black beans, drained and rinsed
• 1 (15 oz) can white beans, drained and rinsed
• 1 medium onion, finely chopped
• 1 cup of frozen corn
• 1 (10 oz) can diced tomatoes with green chilies
• 1 Tablespoon Wildtree Chipotle Lime Rub
• 1 bag Wildtree Creamy Ranch Dressing & Dip Mix
• 1/4 cup cilantro, chopped
• 1 cup Wildtree Chicken Bouillon Soup Base, prepared according to package directions
• 1 (8 oz) package Neufchatel cheese (or cream cheese)

(Need some Wildtree ingredients? You can find them here.)

The instructions for this recipe call for putting it in a slow cooker or crock pot. You can absolutely put it in a Dutch oven and cook it higher and faster. The crock pot just makes it super easy.

You will start by placing the chicken in the bottom of the slow cooker. Pour the Wildtree Chipotle Lime Rub over the chicken.

Next you will add the black beans, white beans, chopped onion, corn, diced tomatoes with green chilies, Wildtree Creamy Ranch Dressing & Dip Mix, and chopped cilantro.

(If some of your people don’t like cilantro you can leave it out and add a sprinkle on top of your bowl. I realize some people have issues.)

Pour the prepared Wildtree Chicken Bouillon Soup Base over all the ingredients and place the cream cheese smack dab in the center.

Cover your crock pot with a lid and cook for 5 hours. When your timer buzzes or dings or chimes or….whatever you pot does…stir the cheese and cook for 1 more hour.

Remove the chicken and shred it. This is really easy to do with 2 forks but then return the shredded chicken to the slow cooker. Give the chili another good stir and serve over rice or just in a bowl with some crusty bread. Or corn bread. Or….

Want to be a blessing to someone who needs to be blessed? Put all the ingredients in a gallon size zip top bag and deliver them (uncooked) to a friend who needs dinner. You can hand it to them and tell them to pour it in their crock pot or, if you’re like me, you can barge in and do it for them. I’m a bossy blesser though. You do it your way.

Enjoy!

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This post is part of the Write 31 Days Challenge I joined for the month of October. You can find a list of other posts here.

I have a love/hate relationship with smart phones and social media. It’s mostly love but there’s a little bit of hate mixed in. I use my phone every day. I text. I text a lot. I rarely make phone calls.  I use social media every day to communicate. It’s the main venue I have for promoting my blog. It’s the way I get the word out regarding my Wildtree business. I frequently use it for NextGenKids Ministry. I use it to keep in contact with old friends I can’t see everyday in real life. I have connected with lots and lots of writers who push me and inspire me to follow my dreams. I love it for all those reasons.

I have more hate for both now that my daughter is wading into the murky waters. She got my hand-me-down phone earlier this year when my term was up. We had every intention of starting this process at the beginning of 6th grade but my phone company made the decision easier for me a couple months in advance.

“No big deal!” I thought. “This will give us the summer to get used to the system and the rules before school starts.”

Hmmmm. I had no idea how hard this would be…on me. She has been amazing. She has followed every rule we have laid down. She has been respectful and honest about her usage and frankly, has not turned into the texting monster I previously feared. Yet. I use “yet” a lot in parenting. I know better than to say,”My child would never…”

It’s a lot of work for me monitoring all the pieces. I am far from being a helicopter parent but I also realize that there is a great big world out there and she has access to it with a simple swipe of a finger. So we set up some basic rules that I’ll share with you.

1. The phone is not hers. It belongs to her dad and I. We can take it away at any time she is not being respectful or getting regular life things done. If the phone is in the way of homework or family time she will be asked to put it away.
2. We have all access to all things. We set up her accounts. We set up her passwords. We reserve the right to change passwords at anytime.
3. We may pick the phone up at any time and read all the things.  Texts, pictures, social media….none of it is off limits to parent eyes. 
4. She must accept “friend request” or “follows” from any of her friends moms. And me. And the ladies of our Oikos (people we do life with). Sometimes I miss things. I need more eyes than mine out there.
5. No apps get downloaded without our permission.
6. At 9:00 the phone gets plugged into the wall in the kitchen. No texts, calls, or social media will happen after 9:00.

I’m sure these will adjust over the years. As she gets older and shows more maturity she will gain more trust and responsibility. The phone is a powerful tool and I don’t want to turn her loose and wild yet. She’s a smart girl though, and so far, has shown herself to be very responsible. The rules have opened up many hours of conversation and have changed and grown as needed. Like the time she received a text forward. One of those that says,”if you love Jesus you will forward this to all your contacts.” Well heck yeah she loves Jesus so….. Rule 7 is “we do not forward any text that threatens harm or promises fortune or blessing.

But this brings me back to social media. She is not allowed on Facebook or Twitter yet. Facebook has age limits. She has no interest in Twitter. But Instagram….oh, Instagram. We allowed her to sign up shortly after school started. But we have extra rules in addition to the follows and friend request rules. Such as Rule 8, which is “only one single selfie allowed per month.” There is a hot and fast trend of young girls taking selfies every other day. The only seeming purpose is to receive validation from friends on hairstyles, clothing, etc. They want to hear how pretty they are. I get it. Everyone likes to be told they’re pretty. But when the number of “likes” becomes a place holder of value then other heart issues start to rise.

I realize I may seem hypocritical when I just posted this yesterday…

But I promise you, I was not soliciting any sort of validation but instead calling out the people who left my office covered in balloons, beads, and glasses yesterday. If was funny. At least I thought it was funny.

I check her Instagram almost every night. Even though most of her friends have the same social media rules as we do, she follows several kids who don’t. She follows several kids who apparently have no rules. And I reserve the right to ask her to “unfollow” any of those people. So anyone who shows inappropriate attire…or no attire…gets an immediate unfollow. People who use it as a forum to make fun of others get an unfollow as well. We have talked frequently about the fact that so many people try to make their lives look bigger and better on social media than the life they live in real life. Sometimes they do that by taking lots of pictures of themselves. Sometimes they try to make others feel bad about themselves. Sometimes they are jerks. Social media is not the place we will look to understand our own worth and value.

I understand that all these rules may seem harsh to you. I’ve had people say,”If you trust your child you should respect their privacy.”

Nope.

I totally trust that my daughter is an amazing human being. She loves Jesus, is kind to others, and follows rules to the dot. But I also trust in God. He has given us this child to raise. He has trusted us with her learning, her health, both mental and physical, and to protect her. We can’t protect her from everything. But that doesn’t mean we toss her the keys to a very adult world and say, “Have at it!” I don’t trust that.

Charlie and I are doing the best we know to do for OUR kids. You have to do what’s best for YOUR kids. And we all have to have each others backs. Parenting is not for sissies and social media makes it harder.

So I’d love to hear what you are doing. It takes a village to raise these kids and I’d be interested to know what other parents have set up in their household regarding phones, computers, and social media.

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Today is Day 21 of the Write 31 Days challenge I joined for the month of October. For a list of all the posts this month you can click here.

I’m not very good at being patient. Waiting is not my strong suit. Long lines at the grocery are my enemy and being on hold with, say, a utility company, is my idea of a nightmare. When I am forced to wait I start to imagine all the things I could be doing, getting accomplished in those minutes or hours. I get down on myself thinking I’ve made a poor choice; that putting myself in the situation to wait is clearly a sign I have chosen poorly.

This is why I am a terrible gardener.

I have planted many bushes/flowers/vines over the years. When I lived up north I attempted bulbs one year. Bulbs are madness for someone with my under-abundance of patience. I tend to buy smaller plants because I’m cheap, thinking I will have the patience to watch them grow. I generally kill them before they reach any sort of maturity.

This year my gardening skill unexpectedly met up with last year’s laziness. I bought mums and pumpkins to create a fall scape on my back porch last October. It was lovely and looked great on Instagram with a soft focus and warm lens. When it came time to put fall away I simply planted the mums in the back flower bed and sat the pumpkins around them. And I walked away. The pumpkins sat, beautifully preserved, through our Houston winter. The mums hung on for dear life. As winter turned to spring and spring into summer (which happens in about a 72 hour stretch in Houston) I noticed the pumpkins started to look a little withered. They weren’t as vibrant in color as they had been in the fall and they were sagging a bit in the middle. I should have picked them up and pitched them but something in me said they’d be just fine. (Sometimes laziness says things like that.) So I left them.

That particular section of bed is behind a pergola area of our yard and I didn’t venture back there for  a while. So imagine my surprise one day when I walked around the corner and saw a beautiful pumpkin vine growing wildly through the mums. I was ecstatic and immediately began envisioning the “home grown” pumpkins I would give friends this fall. I came up with a plan to leave pumpkins in that spot every year and be the pumpkin lady who has her own patch.

The problem was that I made this discovery in July. Houston is not kind in July and no matter how I tried to keep up with the watering, the pumpkin vine did not make it. I gave up on my short-lived dream of my very own patch. Several vines with lovely and delicate orange flowers have popped up since then but I have not allowed myself to tend to them. Tending would cause me to dream again and frankly, I don’t have time to dream of being a pumpkin lady. I’ve got too many irons in the fire.

I was thinking about the pumpkin vines today. I made a run into the grocery store and there are about a million pumpkins sitting on the walk outside. I thought, “This could’ve been me if I’d only had the patience to tend to the pumpkin vine.”

While I realize my words sound like I’m a little bitter over pumpkins, alas, I am not. I do have to wonder, however, about my patience. Or more so, my lack of patience. How often do I ask God for something and then expect it to flower, bloom, and produce within the hour? And how often do I give up when that doesn’t happen? God says I should hope for what I don’t have and then wait patiently for it to happen. He wants me to make my requests with a thankful and glad heart. God always knows what is best for me and when the best delivery time is going to be. Sometimes I see an answer immediately. Other times I have to wait. And sometimes he tells me that it’s not in his plan for me to be a grower and peddler of pumpkins. That is when I have to have hope that he has something better if I can only be patient enough.

I pray for patience and He gives me opportunities to be patient.

I also buy pumpkins at the grocery store.

(Photo courtesy of http://giantpumpkinprimer.wikispaces.com/)

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(This post is for Day 20 of the Write 31 Days Challenge I am participating in along with many of my Clumsy Blogger friends.)